


Posting Bail

by Hornswaggler



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 12:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4665843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hornswaggler/pseuds/Hornswaggler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be fair, most people didn't actually give into the urge to punch the campus preachers.</p>
<p>College AU, likely to turn into a collection of shorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Posting Bail

**Author's Note:**

> My roommate gave me the idea for a dumb college AU, because after that finale, AUs are really the only way these two might end up normal-ish/actually happy. (I have various other ideas for it and said roommate might also write things, so there will almost certainly be more.)
> 
> Because D’avin was flirting and Alvis has a staring problem.

D’avin would admit that it certainly wasn’t his first time in a jail. It  _was_ , however, his first time he was bailing someone out rather than the other way around. He was familiar enough with the process simply because John had complained about it every single time, but it was somewhat awkward waiting around with the cop that had processed him at least once.

The guy that was led out into the waiting room didn’t look like he was used to places like this, but he didn’t really seem nervous either. He only met D’avin’s eyes for a moment before stepping up to the desk behind plexiglass and tapping on the wood quickly.

“Akari,” he told the cop without prompting. “Red backpack, brown jacket.”

Maybe he had more experience with this than originally thought. D’avin pushed himself off of the wall he’d been leaning on and approached the desk, hands in his pockets. The guy had a few cuts and bruises on his knuckles and the split lip wasn’t bleeding like it had been that morning, but it was still pretty obvious.

“You got a ride?” D’avin asked after a few moments as the appropriate jacket and bag were pushed through the gap in the glass. He got a curious look for that.

“Not that far to campus.” Something rattled in the backpack as the guy threw it over his shoulder and he rooted around in the jacket pocket, pulling out a phone and glancing at the screen that remained stubbornly blank. “You bailed me out?”

“Figured I owed you.” The hand he stuck out was accepted without hesitation. Impressive grip. “D’avin.”

“Alvis.” He didn’t quite grin – come to think of it, his expression hadn’t really changed since he’d walked in – but there was something a little less tense in his posture. “Are you offering a ride?”

D’avin nodded, jerking his head toward the door. “I’ve got a car. Like I said, I owe you.”

He made a point of not meeting the eyes of the cops as they walked out, vaguely wondering if he’d be back here any time soon under less pleasant circumstances. The night was brisk, but even with his arms bare Alvis didn’t flinch. They didn’t speak crossing the parking lot or pulling out onto the road, but even in that distance D’avin noticed that Alvis had something of a staring problem.

“Y’know,” D’avin said at the first light, keeping his eyes firmly on the road, “most people just argue with the asshole preachers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone actually punch one.”

“He was wearing on my patience.” Alvis still hadn’t looked away. In the strange shadows that streetlights cast it was a little eerie. “I don’t like when they single people out. And you’d run out of arguments.”

Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong. It was less that he’d run out of arguments, though, and more that he’d gotten too frustrated to continue coherently. To be honest, he’d certainly  _wanted_ to throw a punch. Someone had just unexpectedly done it for him.

“Well your bail was cheap enough; what’re you looking at?”

“Fines. Short probation at most.” Now that was definitely the start of a smirk. “First offense, they were lenient.”

D’avin laughed, chancing a quick glance over – hell he was still staring – and ran a hand back through his hair quickly. “Well hopefully you’ve deterred the asshole from coming back for a rematch. Got a mean left hook.”

“Will you be challenging him again if it didn’t?”

“Can I expect you in my corner again?”

Alvis scoffed - something that might have been close to a laugh. “I’m a theology major. Any opportunity to show them the actual context of what they’re quoting.”

“So you’re telling me you  _don't_ usually go for the attack method,” D'avin noted, and Alvis seemed to consider it for a few seconds.

“Guess this was the exception.”

“Well, I’m honored.”

Alvis did look away after that, glancing out the window and nodding down the street. “I’m on the right here.”

“Reilly?” He got a brisk nod in reply and D'avin let himself grin a little. “I’m right across the street - Wilson.”

There was that look again - this guy had an uncanny way of not moving his face much at all - and as soon as he pulled into the bus loading area in front of the building D'avin had his right hand suddenly pulled off the steering wheel. Alvis had procured a pen from who-knew-where and scribbled a number on the back of D'avin’s hand quickly in surprisingly neat writing.

“Get in touch,” he said as D'avin tried to find the correct words to inform him that he  _did_ have a phone handy. “In case you need backup.” He had his bag on his shoulder and jacket over one arm in seconds, climbed out of the car, and was halfway to the front door before D'avin managed to do anything more than stare after him.

He shook his head quickly, pulling back onto the road toward the parking garage. “Creepy little dude,” he muttered, but found himself grinning as he glanced down at the black writing on his hand.

John was going to have a field day with this.

* * *

He did get in touch, though not initially for any sort of backup. The preacher, unsurprisingly, wasn’t back after the incident, so D'avin suggested the option of lunch in place of a theological debate. Nothing remotely formal, a little rushed in between classes, but it became something of a regular occurrence.

One thing that was extremely apparent from the start was just how intense Alvis was pretty much all the time. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it definitely took a bit of getting used to. The staring habit didn’t abate in the slightest, and there was still the eerie thing of his face staying almost unnaturally still. The guy was difficult to read, but managed to be good company regardless.

Johnny kept nagging him to just “make things official already”, and Pree wasn’t any better once he figured it out. It wasn’t like he hadn’t considered it, but Alvis  _was_ near impossible to get an accurate read on.

“I think you’re just avoiding looking,” Pree told him once. “Seems pretty damn obvious to everyone else.”

D’avin wasn’t really convinced.

There was another preacher, though, a few weeks later. A different one than before – something told him that one wouldn’t be coming back to this particular campus any time soon – but just as dedicated. True to his word, D’avin sent a quick text alerting his assigned backup. Alvis seemed to have some weird teleporting ability when it came to jumping into theological debates and somehow appeared at D’avin’s shoulder far faster than expected.

“What point is he on?” Alvis asked.

“Jumping between the fourth and fifth,” D’avin told him, arms folding as he craned his neck a bit to see over a small group that had paused on the pedway for a few moment. “One guy tried a few arguments but I think he had class. Couldn’t get a word in edgewise anyway, this one won’t stop shouting.”

Alvis grunted, eyes narrowing marginally at the man who was pacing in front of his various signs proclaiming all of the various forms of evil present. “This is a loud one, isn’t he?”

“Impressively so. You gonna break out the textbooks?”

He seemed to consider that, head tilting just a little to one side. “I don’t think that’ll get through.”

D’avin chuckled. “Well if you punch this one I’m not gonna bail you out again.”

“No.” Alvis’s face shifted just a little, still unreadable but more of a change than usual. “I think we can get his attention, though.”

He had hold of D’avin’s wrist suddenly and pulled him to the front of the small crowd that had gathered. It took a little longer than it should have to realize what he had planned, and Alvis hesitated a split second, eyebrows lifting a little as if verifying permission.

It was an overly dramatic kiss, admittedly, but it definitely got the preacher’s attention. D’avin didn’t actually hear much of what he was shouting this time, but he did hear a few people whistling behind them. Not that it seemed overly important for the moment, there was a slight ringing in his ears blocking most of it out.

The preacher pointedly turned his back after a while and they pulled back a moment later. It was an interesting surprise to see that Alvis was actually grinning – a full grin, drastic after so long of barely any expressions at all.

“Think we’ve got a new tactic?” D’avin asked eventually, and Alvis chuckled.

“Well it certainly seemed to work.”

“He seems to have forgotten, should we get his attention again?”

“Gladly.”


End file.
